


Kingmaker

by honey_wheeler



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Robb Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 19:49:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19012678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_wheeler/pseuds/honey_wheeler
Summary: He’s far from weak. That’s one of the things Arianne likes about him. To be sure, he’s a kind man, gentle with her, warm and solicitous and as pretty of manner as he is of face. But Arianne has learned that it’s his inner steel that allows him to be so. She has known men who seemed as hard as armor, but that was only a shell; inside they were soft, vulnerable, like the hard-shelled crackclaws Arianne and her brothers would catch for supper during days at the shore when she was a girl.Robb has no need of a shell. All his armor is on the inside. It’s one way she and Robb are alike.





	Kingmaker

**Author's Note:**

> For the asoiafrarepairs prompt: Robb X Arianne - Sometimes I wonder if you have even been weaned... Don't look at me like that!

Robb Stark loves her tits.

To be fair, she doesn’t blame him. Arianne has many traits, but false modesty is not among them; she’s well aware of her physical gifts, and quite well aware of the quality of her tits.

“Exemplary,” Arys had once said, staring at them so reverently that she’d had to remind him he was allowed to touch them, encouraged even. Thinking of Arys makes regret beat in her breast like a caged bird, though, so she puts it out of her mind, saving it for some other time. She’d rather think of Robb and his mouth right now.

He’s putting that mouth to good use. He’s had his head at her breast through two of her peaks so far, his lips and tongue as lazy and soft as his hand on her cunt is not. The contrast is intoxicating, like cool wine on a hot day or the bitterness of chocolate mixed with the sweetness of oranges in Arianne’s favorite dessert. She pitches her hips up against his hand, mutely demanding another peak, and Robb’s lips curve against her breast.

“Greedy little thing,” he says, his voice fond.

Arianne makes an indelicate sound approaching a snort. “I could say the same of you,” she points out. “Sometimes I wonder if you’ve even been weaned.” She gives her chest a shake to emphasize her point, momentarily dislodging Robb’s mouth, and he briefly takes his hand from her cunt to catch one breast and guide it back to his mouth. “You see?”

Robb only shrugs, plumping her breast with his hand for his mouth before letting it drift back between her thighs far more slowly than she’d prefer. “I’m a weak man,” he mumbles around her nipple, the stroke of his tongue in time with the stroke of his fingertips, delving, seeking, finding.

He’s far from weak. That’s one of the things Arianne likes about him. To be sure, he’s a kind man, gentle with her, warm and solicitous and as pretty of manner as he is of face. But Arianne has learned that it’s his inner steel that allows him to be so. She has known men who seemed as hard as armor, but that was only a shell; inside they were soft, vulnerable, like the hard-shelled crackclaws Arianne and her brothers would catch for supper during days at the shore when she was a girl. 

Robb has no need of a shell. All his armor is on the inside. It’s one way she and Robb are alike.

His mouth doesn’t relinquish her breast even as he rises onto his knees to position himself between her thighs. The hunch of his back must feel as awkward as it seems when he slides his cock inside her, because he lasts only a handful of strokes before he’s wrapping one arm around her waist to haul her body up against his. Arianne clings to him, his head held tight in the valley of her breasts, and rides his cock as she would a fine stallion that’s aching for a hard gallop.

She glories in the spill of his release inside her. There will be no child just yet – she’s seen to that. She has too many plans for such things, plans with him and of her own, and a mind to see that he can bring her far more than just the Northern throne. But she would have all of him that she can for now, and he seems to be of a like mind.

“Will you still worship me so when I’m your Queen?” she asks after, as he lies half atop her, still nuzzling her breast for all that he’s sated and near boneless in the aftermath of pleasure.

His lips curl against her tender skin. “Only if you’re still worthy of such worship.”

Arianne smiles herself, never one to feign humility. They both know she will be.


End file.
